


Take Care of Him

by ThePandoricaWillOpen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePandoricaWillOpen/pseuds/ThePandoricaWillOpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve crashed into the water, debris falling on top of him. For once, the Soldier (James? Asset? Bucky? Who am I?) felt unsure, broken, unable to stop himself from lunging forth, arms spread and eyes searching frantically for Steve (Fuck, Stevie, where are you?). James (my name is Bucky, damnit!) dove after him, closing his eyes as more memories hit him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Am I?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UponYggdrasil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UponYggdrasil/gifts).



> For my best friend who encouraged me to write and post this after we watched CATWS for the tenth time.

James Buchanan Barnes had been in love with Steven Grant Rogers since nineteen-thirty three. Fact. No questions asked. No further information required.

But Winter Soldier was not James Buchanan Barnes. He didn’t know this fact. The  _ Soldat _ had questions. The Asset required more information. 

Bucky Barnes, somewhere deep inside the Soldier, knew this fact. He knew the answer to the questions. He had the necessary information.

Together, they stared as the helicarrier shook, pieces falling away, taking Steve (Stevie? Oh, god, what have I done?) with it and plunging into the Potomac River down below.

His heart, usually silent and steady in his chest was beating, threatening to break out of his chest. His lungs wouldn’t draw breath no matter how much his brain demanded air. His hands shook as he reached out and grabbed onto the helicarrier. He heard his blood pumping in his ears, deafening and unrelenting. 

“I’m with you… till the end of the line,” he’s said just as the Asset (my name is Bucky) was about to hit him again. And then, before he could process the words, the words vibrating in his mind, unlocking feelings he’d never felt before, Steve fell. 

Memories flooded his system as Steve fell away from him. 

Cotton candy. Coney Island. Teddy Bear. Warmth.

 

_ “Whatcha doin’, Buck? Dot’s looking for ya.” _

_ “What’s it look like, punk? Ima get you that bear.” _

_ “Buck…” _

_ “No, don’t gimme them puppy-dog eyes of yours. That carney damn well cheated you outta your prize and I ain’t gonna stand for it.” _

_ “I thought I was the one who was always gunnin’ for a fight and you were the rational one who got me out of them.” _

_ “Not today, pal, not today.”  _

 

Steve crashed into the water, debris falling on top of him. For once, the Soldier (James? Asset? Bucky? Who am I?) felt unsure, broken, unable to stop himself from lunging forth, arms spread and eyes searching frantically for Steve (Fuck, Stevie, where are you?). James (my name is Bucky, damnit!) dove after him, closing his eyes as more memories hit him.

 

_ “Best three dollars I ever spent,” Bucky said as he wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close. Never mind how they were going to go home without any bus money or the fact that his date went home after he lost that second dollar. The only thing that mattered was Steve’s wide eyes as Bucky hit the grand prize target and the carney handed him the bear. _

_ “I love it,” Steve whispered against the toy before pulling away from Bucky, his right arm falling awkwardly at his side. Steve punched him on the arm, his eyes narrowing at him with feigned anger crinkling his eyebrows. “How’s we supposed to get home now, wise guy?” _

_ “Damnit, punk,” he replied rubbing his arm and reaching for Steve’s to pull him back into an embrace. He didn’t care about the odd looks they got. Nothing mattered but Steve. Nothing mattered more than his arm around him and the smile Bucky got as they continued to walk. No disapproving looks or hushed whispers could take this night away from him. Nothing they could do with their judging eyes could make the warm feeling in his chest go away. He leaned down, putting his lips against Steve’s hair and whispered, “Don’t worry, Stevie, I’ll take care of it.” _

 

The water was cold but nothing compared to the frigid temperatures that his handlers had bathed him with. The cold didn’t bother him anymore, he’d been conditioned to feel nothing (pain doesn’t matter, only Steve matters). He found him slowly sinking to the bottom of the river, reached for him with his metal arm and pulled him to the riverbank. He dragged Steve, his right arm still dislocated from their fight, and threw him on the wet dirt. (Stevie? Breath, Steve, please! Don’t leave me!)

Steve coughed and Bucky released a breath he hadn’t known he’d taken. He blinked, his wet hair sticking to his face as he stared at Steve (my Stevie, my friend because my name is Bucky and I’m in love with Steve). 

He hesitated before falling to his knees. He reached with his right arm, his flesh arm, his injured arm, the arm Steve punched all those years ago, to touch Steve’s cheek. Steve leaned into the touch, his lips lightly touching Bucky’s palm, and whispered against it, “Bucky...”

He pulled away sharply and stood, his arm protesting at the sudden movement. He took a deep breath, straightened his back and walked away. 

(But you are hurting him, the Soldier protested.)

(Kill him and he won’t suffer ever again, the Asset suggested.)

(Take care of him by staying away, James offered.)

(You’re safe for now, Stevie. You’re better off without me. I did this… I - I won’t ever hurt you again, Bucky thought.)

Bucky turned back before Steve was completely out of his view and said, his voice rough from misuse, “I love you, Stevie.”

And then James Buchanan Barnes, the Asset, the Soldier,  _ Bucky _ disappeared without a trace.


	2. Then And Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For two years, he buys his plums, takes out his notebook and writes as his memories return. And then the window shatters and everything goes to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Captain America: Civil War. I also used some of the lines from the movie but in a different order. Enjoy!

Then.

 

With every punch and every piece of the helicarriers that fell, The Winter Soldier's conditioning began to crumble. It started to shatter and when Steve stopped fighting, just laid there while he beat him within an inch of his life, the Soldier remembered Bucky.

He remembered the countless of times he’d found Steve bloody and still itching for a fight even when his opponent weighed three times as much as he did. This was different, however. Captain America and The Winter Soldier were practically equals in strength and stamina. This was Steve giving up, allowing the Soldier to hit him because… he didn’t know.

“I’m with you… till the end of the line.”

The Soldier remembered one of the countless times they'd said that to one another as comfort and felt his world collapse.

And then the carrier crumbled, taking with it Steve, the one bright thing that Bucky had, the Soldier's only hope to becoming Bucky again and he couldn't let that die so he dove in. But then the Soldier’s instincts were too great and he took over for survival, so he walked away because he's not The Winter Soldier anymore but he isn't exactly Bucky either.

He's both and neither. And he can't protect Steve when he's so shattered.

So he ran because the Soldier didn’t have a mission but Bucky did. Mission " **Protect Steve** " could not be completed because he wasn't whole. He wasn’t complete.

But one day he would be.

* * *

Now.

 

He buys plums because they support brain health and enhance memory recovery.

He has a notebook because he remembers Steve used to carry a sketchpad with him before the war.

He rents a tiny apartment because he remembers sharing a tiny crawl space with Steve and being _so utterly_ happy that every time he thoughts about it it brought a smile to his face.

He reads every bit of information until he can practically recite every last word ever said about Captain Steven Grant Rogers and The Howling Commandos.

For two years, he gets better.

For two years, he buys his plums, takes out his notebook and writes his memories as they return.

Sometimes he just stares at Steve in his Captain's uniform from the Smithsonian exhibit pamphlet.

He wants to remember what it felt like to hold that scrawny kid from Brooklyn in his arms again. He wants to remember those bright blue eyes and red lips. He wants to be the recipient of that all-American smile. He wants...

And then Steve is standing in his kitchen, Bucky's notebook in his hands. And he thinks… _I can't do this. I'm not ready. I can't protect you yet, Stevie_.

But then he hears them, hears someone's voice telling Steve that they're coming. Hears Steve ask him if he knows him. He hesitates, unsure how much he should reveal. He didn’t want to raise Steve’s hopes, didn’t want to see the light go out of them when Bucky inevitable did something wrong. So, cautiously, he says, "You’re Steve. I remember you from the museum."

"I know you're scared,” Steve replies, his jaw clenching before continuing, “but you're lying."

He suppresses a smile. Steve could always tell when he was lying. Even when Bucky tried his best to keep his face blank, Steve always knew. Just like that time on the roof when -

"I've been compromised," the voice says suddenly.

Bucky stares at Steve, daring him to make the next move, begging him to walk away because this isn't his battle. They are here for the Winter Soldier, not Bucky Barnes, and not Captain America, not Steve. He hears footsteps in the stairs. He hears whispers of commands. He hears his heart racing as Steve just stands there, his eyes wide with an emotion that Bucky won't let himself read just yet.

Steve takes a few steps forwards and Bucky resists the urge to bridge the space left between then and wrap his arms around him, to feel the warmth coming off of his body. The warmth he longed and dreamed for. The warmth he’s written about in his notebooks.

“You pulled me out of the river,” Steve says, his eyes searching Bucky’s face for something. Bucky remains blank. Until Steve asks, with a shaky whisper, “Why?”

“I -” He licks his lower lip, clenching his jaw to keep himself from trembling in front of Steve. He lets out an unsteady breath and lies again, “I don’t know.”

"Bucky, please," Steve whispers, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes, one hand reaching towards his face. Bucky breaks eye contact and stares as the hand comes close to him. _God, I miss you_ , he thinks as Steve retracts his hand back.

"I-"

Then the window shatters and everything goes to hell.

* * *

"It's okay, Buck."

 _You were supposed to protect him and now he's got guns pointed at him_ , he berates himself as more and more men scattered around them. He’s got War Machine on his right, a man in a cat suit in front of him and Steve on his left. After running as far and as fast as he could, trying to protect Steve by running away like a coward, they are on a bridge surrounded by men and guns.

Steve's hand briefly touches his chest, giving him comfort even if the touch was meant as something else. His eyes plead with Bucky -- puppy-dog eyes, he remembers calling them once -- and he stands down. His arms relax at his side but his shoulders remain tense, his eyes calculating an escape route that would end with his death and Steve’s escape. If he died, at least Steve would be safe from him. They are surrounded but the Soldier had beaten the odds before and better men have died at his hand.

"It's all going to be okay, Buck," Steve is saying at his side as he raises his hands up in surrender, "I'll protect you."

 _I'm supposed to be the one doin' the protectin', Stevie. Not you_ , he wants to say but, instead, not trusting himself to say the words out loud, Bucky nods.

He follows Steve, raising his hands, as the men around them move to apprehend them. He flinches, not when he is thrown against the cement, he couldn’t care less what happened to him, but when Steve is pushed roughly on his knees and his arms are pulled behind his back. He growls, the sound erupting from his lips without a thought, and his eyes connect with Steve’s. He’s mouthing something, but Bucky can’t figure out what it is, not when there are men who are pulling him up and dragging him to a van.

It hits him when he closes his eyes as restraints are buckled around his wrists and his ankles are locked in place. He breathes in and out slowly, willing himself to calm down, when the guards pull away, closing a thick glass door shut behind them and sitting on the space leftover in the back of the van. _They are not HYDRA,_ Bucky tells himself, the voices in his head are muted back, too scared to come out just in case. He thinks of his plums, left on the kitchen table. He thinks of the notebooks in his book bag, now sitting on the floor by the guards. He thinks of Steve and…

“I love you.”

The words are clear in his mind now. Steve’s red lips moving in slow motion as he continues to think about it, repeating it over and over and over again in his mind until he is sure.

Steve loves him.

He wants to scream, he wants to break out of the restraints, bolt out the van and find Steve and tell him - 

 _Tell him what? That I love him back? Do I even know who I am right now_. He shakes his head, letting out a shaky sigh that makes his guards look at each other worriedly. He closes his eyes, steadies his breathing in an attempt to stop the tears that threaten to spill. One falls anyway, running down his cheek, so he tilts his head forward, hiding behind his long hair.

_I’m broken. But he loves me anyway._

He smiles to himself and, for the first time, dares to dream of a future with Steve at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A giant thank you to everyone who's reading, commenting and kodus-ing!


	3. Constant Touch (Or Lack Thereof)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d always been a coward. No amount of super-serum could change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what the inside of T'Challa's jet looked like so bear with me and my vagueness.

It was the aborted touches that hurt the most. Nine at his last count and they’d only been on the run from, well, everyone for four hours. Half of the Avengers, the governments of one-hundred and seventeen states and the rest of the world was after them and here he was, sitting beside Captain America - no, he was just Steve Rogers now - bleeding all over the King of Wakanda’s fancy jet. 

And dear god did he want that tenth aborted touch to happen. But it didn’t. Steve had raised his hand to help Bucky sit up and, just as quickly as his hand had reached out, he let his hand fall back to his lap, leaving Bucky feeling cold and utterly alone.

His memories had been coming in faster now, just being near Steve was enough for his mind to mend itself. He wasn’t the same, he would never be the man Steve grew up with, but at least now he could banter with him about their past. Like in the stolen quinjet. Effortlessly. The memory just opening up, the words spilling from his mouth without his having to think long and hard about it. 

Corn dogs, carnivals and bears. Blue eyes and wide smiles. Steve’s head leaning against his shoulder as they took the long drive home in the back of a truck. The good ol’ days. 

_ I love you _ .

They hadn’t talked about it. Not after everything that happened. Not after he lost control and became a weapon once more. Steve, it was always Steve, who snapped him out of the conditioning. He should bring it up, say something… and yet, he didn’t.

He thought everything was better, he certainly felt better now with Steve at his side. Even if the blood that covered his face was Bucky’s fault. Even if he’d just deserted his friend in Siberia after beating him to a pulp for Bucky. Even if his blue eyes didn’t hold the same light as they did in the quinjet. They had fought a battle and won. And maybe it was the Soldier talking, he couldn’t know for sure, but winning the battle was worth it all. Being beside Steve was worth everything. 

He promised himself to do better, for Steve.

But now, sitting in the jet in the presence of T’Challa who has been out for his blood not more than a few hours ago, Bucky didn’t feel lucky. He didn’t feel worthy. He felt… cold.

He didn’t mind T’Challa touching him, patching him up from the battle. Hell, Steve was just as injured as he was. But once the blood was washed away and all that there was left was sweat. When there was time to waste until their respective super-serum’s began to work. When T’Challa walked away leaving them in private while he made some calls, presumably to Wakanda to prepare for their arrival,  _ that’s _ when Bucky minded the lack of touch.

He didn’t deserve it, never had, but Steve had never been one to ask permission before engulfing him in a bone crushing hug. Steve had never hesitate before placing a soothing hand on his arm in support of whatever dumb, crazy idea Bucky was taking a part of. 

But when Bucky risked a look at Steve and saw the first hand raise, saw that hesitation, that awkwardness that he’d never seen in his eyes before, that’s when the coldness spread. 

His body was turned towards Bucky, his arms at his side as if he’d raised them and then decided better. His eyes were on the ground, jaw clenched. Bucky stared at him for a moment, his heartbeat accelerating at the mere thought that he would feel Steve’s warmth against his battered body. 

And then Steve turned away, sitting back on the bench they shared and closed his eyes. Bucky’s heart dropped, his mouth soured and tears gathered in his eyes at the clear dismissal. He took a calming breath, blinking the tears away and mimicked Steve. 

_ I love you. _

Steve didn’t want him. Steve didn’t think he was worthy anymore. Steve didn’t think he could be saved. 

Steve didn’t mean it.

Steve didn’t love him.

Bucky wanted to run. He wanted to pry open the jet and jump out because if Steve didn’t care anymore, he sure as hell didn’t either.

* * *

They stared into nothing for a long time. Bucky could hear Steve’s heartbeat, his breathing and he could feel his very essence at his side but he could not dare turn his head to look at him. One look and it would all be over. A clenched jaw could mean many things but, if his memories served him right, it meant that Steve was fiercely debating something. And Bucky sure as hell didn’t want to know, not when he was so close to getting one part of his life back.

He would comply if Steve decided, once they landed in Wakanda, that he didn’t want to be near Bucky anymore. He could never go back to Bucharest but he had other options, other safe places he could hide and never be found. He would go as far away as Steve wanted him to, he would suffer any pain Steve would have him endure if it meant that - that Steve was safe.

That was the mission. He would complete his mission no matter what. He didn’t matter. Only Steve mattered. He would -

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s head snapped to his left, his eyes meeting Steve’s a second before the other man looked away. He nodded to Bucky’s missing limb. “I didn’t think to pick it up after…”

“We both left something behind. It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky said. He saw Steve flinch at the use of his nickname and something inside him snapped. “You don’t have to do this, you know?”

“Hmm? Do what?”

“Runaway with me. Abandon your friends. I’m already a traitor, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said finally turning to Bucky, his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes widened a moment later and he whispered, “unless you don’t want me to… Do you - do you not want me here? I thought you wanted me here, with you. I thought - “

Bucky turned, reaching out with his flesh arm to still Steve who looked at him with shining eyes. God, he thought, I haven’t seen that look since Sarah died. He felt Steve trembling under his touch. He moved his hand to Steve’s cheek, remembering how he leaned into his touch that day at the Potomac. Steve didn’t lean in this time. He reached and placed his hand on top of Bucky’s.

“I want you here, Stevie,” he admitted. “I just - I don’t want to hold you back. You have friends, a home, people who look up to you. You have,” he chuckled, “you have a girlfriend. And you’re leaving that behind because of me.” He looked at their hands, pulling them down between them. “You can barely even touch me without - without flinching. I just need to know that you’re doing this, following me to the pits of wherever, for the right reasons and not because you feel guilty.”

Steve pulled his hand away, getting up from the bench and running his hands roughly through his hair. Bucky sat back and waited.

“I’ve never needed a reason to follow you before, Buck,” Steve said.

“This isn’t a trip to the corner store at midnight, Steve,” he argued. “This is literally putting your life on the line  _ because _ of me. I don’t think I’m worth your life. Not back then and not now.”

“Well I fucking do!” Steve shouted coming to stand in front of him and crouching down. “You are worth at least ten of me, more. ‘Till the end of the line, remember?”

Bucky looked Steve right in the eyes and said, “my line ended a long time ago, pal.”

He watched as Steve’s resolve finally crumbled, tears falling from his blue eyes and his back choking back sobs. He leaned forward, leaning his head against Bucky’s thighs and cried harder than Bucky had ever seen him cry. 

Bucky kept his breath steady, his heartbeat controlled, this was a gift from the Soldier. He couldn’t stop his hand from resting on to of Steve’s head, caressing him as he continued to cry on his lap. Bucky let him. 

At some point the plane landed and he heard shuffling outside of the walls but no one walked inside where they were. T’Challa’s doing, most likely. He would have to thank the king for this small kindness later. For now, he held Steve and waited.

“I just want my best friend back,” Steve whispered hoarsely. “I just want to be back in Brooklyn with my best friend. I just want to be happy again. Like before the war.”

“We aren’t two kids from Brooklyn causing trouble anymore. You’re a national icon and I’m -”

“What if I don’t wanna be that anymore? What if I want to go back to the way things were with you?”

“Well, then, that’s too fucking bad, Stevie,” Bucky said. “We can never go back to that. I’m too broken, I don’t think I could even remember what back then was really like. We’re here and we have to - we have to survive. Alone or together, we have to live.”

“Not without you,” Steve whispered, turning his head to look at Bucky. “Together or not at all, Buck.”

“Steve…”

Steve pulled away, sitting up on his knees in front of Bucky, their eyes leveled. Bucky’s hand dropped to his cheek, Steve’s warmth already dissipating rapidly. He yearned to reach for Steve, pull him forward, but he couldn’t. Not until he knew for sure that - 

Steve reached for Bucky’s head and leaned forward, crushing his lips against Bucky’s before he knew what was going on. He stilled for a moment, his brain catching up to the fact that he had a pair of incredibly soft lips against his.  _ Steve’s _ lips. Lips that were kissing him.  _ Steve was kissing him _ . He closed his eyes and leaned in. He felt Steve’s hand tilt his head back while his tongue licked Bucky’s lower lip. He gasped and Steve took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Bucky scooted forward on the bench, using his flesh arm he pulled at Steve’s shoulder until they were almost flushed against each other and then kept his hand on Steve’s soft cheek. 

_ I love you. _

Bucky didn’t know what he felt but he knew he wanted the kiss to continue forever.  _ I wonder if Sharon felt the same way when Steve -  _

He pulled away as he remembered the kiss Steve had shared with the agent earlier in the week.

“We - we can’t do this,” he blurted, breathing labored.

Steve’s eyes snapped open, the furrow between his brow returning, and asked, “why not?”

Bucky stared at him, waiting for the realisation to dawn on him. But it never came. He had a girlfriend, for god sakes, how could he forget that? His Steve wouldn’t have dilated pupils, flushed cheeks and pink lips. His steve wouldn’t say  _ I love you  _ unless he absolutely meant it. His Steve wouldn’t have forgotten if he was going steady with a girl. But this wasn’t the Steve he knew. His Steve wouldn’t have kiss him. His Steve wasn’t  _ this _ Steve. 

So Bucky made a choice, one he seemed to be making more as he spent more time with Steve in this life. 

He got up, pushing Steve back on the floor, and walked away.

“Bucky? Bucky, wait!”

He’d always been a coward. No amount of super-serum could change that.


	4. Promise Me, Stevie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky had always been the one to run away, from his feelings and from life. But right now, this second, it was Steve who walked away and, not for the first time, Bucky felt like his whole world was falling to pieces.
> 
> “I can’t,” Steve said one more time as he walked away from Bucky. “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Steve Rogers!
> 
> (I'm Sorry!)

 

After Bucky ran away from Steve, he’d walked up to T’Challa and asked if there was something the Wakandan King required of him. He'd seen the look on the man’s face, his eyebrows rising slightly before he composed himself. He didn't require anything, he replied and motioned for him to follow. He led Bucky to a pair of joined rooms and told him, softly but firmly, to make himself at home. It wasn't a command but something inside Bucky relaxed as if it had been. His shoulders dropped, his metal arm – stump now, he reminded himself - started to ache, or maybe it had been aching this whole time and he hadn't noticed. He thanked the King, who lingered for a moment as if deciding whether it was his place to ask or not.

“Where is the Captain?” He finally asked, his voice holding the same tone Steve used when he was trying to be diplomatic.

“Steve? He’s probably still in the plane,” Bucky said as he scanned the rooms. He turned to T’Challa and added, “still alive, I promise.”

“You wouldn't hurt him.”

“I  _ have _ hurt him,” he reminded him. “I've hurt him for a long time, many times over.”

“And yet,” T’Challa said taking a step towards Bucky, “he cares deeply about you. He was willing to die to find you. Willing to kill his friends to keep you safe. I may not know the cap -  Steve - for very long but the love I see in his eyes, the love I see he has for you, it is not something that I have seen often shared between just friends.”

“I-” Bucky ran a hand through his long hair, his body finding it hard to balance without his arm at his side. He swayed slightly, bringing down his arm and going to sit on one of the soft couches in the living room. “I said some things I shouldn't have… On the plane.”

“He will forgive you.”

“That's - that's the problem,” Bucky replied with a sad smile. “I know he will. He'll forgive anything I do. That's dangerous.  _ I'm _ dangerous.”

“Perhaps you are. But Steve has a variation of the serum that you have running through his veins and you don't think he’s dangerous.”

“I -” Bucky wasn't used to being left speechless. He didn't like the feeling at all. “He’s Steve… He couldn't hurt anyone.”

“And yet, he did,” T’Challa pointed out, “for you. I wish I had someone so loyal as Steve Rogers in my life. My guards are loyal, they would give up their lives for their King… and yet it isn’t Steve’s job to protect you with his life. He does so willingly. His loyalty to you is a gift you should not squander.”

Bucky didn't respond, his eyes glued to the floor, unable to come up with anything. By the time he looked up, the king was gone. Bucky didn't feel the need to do anything but go back to the plane and apologize, explain to Steve why he'd run. Make him understand his anxiety, his worries. But he couldn't do that, could he?

He got up from the chair, swaying slightly, and made his way to the door. He swung it open and found Steve on the other side, hand ready to knock on the door. They stared at each other for a pause. Bucky stepped to the side and let him in, watched him as he hesitated, watched the red of his eyes as he passed him, leaning on the wall by the door next to Bucky. Bucky closed it and opened his mouth to say something but Steve beat him to it.

“I'm sorry, Buck.”

“F-for what?” He moved deeper into the room, feeling Steve follow behind. “What do you have to be sorry about, Stevie?”

“You've only just… I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like I did.”

Bucky turned and looked at Steve, unsure of what he meant. “I wanted to kiss you… If that's what you meant. I wanted … I wanted it.”

“Why did you - why did you leave then? I don't get it,” Steve asked softly, his eyes on the floor. “I don't want to lose you again. I'll do anything.”

Bucky felt like someone had punched him in the chest. He rushed forward, grabbing Steve by the back of his neck and pulling him into a hug. It wasn’t this best hug but it was pretty great considering he only had one hand to work with. Steve sighed into his neck, wrapping his arms around his waist in an embrace that might have broken someone else but not Bucky.

“I love you,” Steve whispered into his neck. “More than anything else.”

“I know,” Bucky whispered back. “I know you do.”  _ That’s the problem _ , he thought.

Steve pulled away and asked, “What do I need to do to fix this?”

Bucky chuckled and shook his head, stepping away from Steve to retake his seat on the couch. “I don’t know. You’re the man with a plan, what should we do?”

“I’m nothing without you,” Steve said as he came towards Bucky, slipping down to his knees and sitting between Bucky’s legs, his back to him, like when they were younger. Bucky spread his legs to allow Steve to lean back comfortably, his wide shoulders between his thighs.

When they were young, Bucky would run his hands through his hair, humming a tune to lull Steve to sleep. His hand itched to do the familiar gesture, to comfort Steve in some way. Instead, he kept his hand on his lap and said, “You are so much more without me, Stevie. Without me you’re Captain America, you’re a hero.”

“Told you I don’t wanna be that anymore,” Steve said. “I don’t care what I have to do to make this right but I’ll do it.”

“You keep saying that and, no matter how many more times you do, Ima tell ya the same thing, punk. I don’t know.”

But Bucky did. He knew what he was going to do, knew the moment he’d snapped out of the conditioning that Zemo had him under. He knew the moment he had woken up his arm trapped and Sam watching him with a guarded look. He’d known the moment they had entered the facility in Siberia and found the bodies. He had to do it. There was no other way and it would give them - give Steve - time to think things through.

“It’s getting dark out,” he pointed out, running his hand through Steve’s hair, allowing himself this comfort before things went to hell again. Steve leaned into the touch, making a small noise in return. Bucky took a deep breath and asked, “Stay with me?”

Steve turned his head, his eyes wide. Bucky gave him a reassuring smile, trying to slip in some of that charm he remembered having in the 1930’s. He could see Steve’s brain working, his eyes blinking as he processed what Bucky was asking. Softly, Steve replied, “always.”

* * *

The next day Bucky dressed into the shirt and pants that T’Challa’s doctors had given him. He hadn’t worn anything so light colored in so long that he felt like he would be blinded if he looked into the mirror. He’s asked someone from T’Challa’s staff to find Steve for him. It’d been twenty minutes; twenty minutes of anxiety bubbling in his chest before he heard a knock on the door and Steve stepped through the doorway, looking like the happiest man in the world.

Bucky hated what he had to do next but he’d thought about it all night laying next to Steve, all through the breakfast Steve made them and all through lunch with T’Challa. He’d made up his mind and then T’Challa had made all the arrangements, even as he shook his head and told him, flat out, that he was making a mistake. But it was Bucky’s mistake; it was his choice to make and his alone. Not even Steve could change his mind. 

“Hey, Buck. I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?” He smiled widely. “Couldn’t wait until dinner to see me, huh?”

“Yeah, Steve, missed ya already,” Bucky said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He saw Steve pick up on it, his eyes narrowing, his own smile dropping. He might as well say it now before Steve found out by himself. “Now, I don't want you to fight me on this or take it personally. I know you and I know you'll think some stupid shit when I tell ya. So promise me?”

“What’s going on?”

“No. You gotta promise you won't freak out.”

“Just tell me.”

“Promise me, Stevie.”

“Buck… Okay, I - I promise I won't freak out.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Steve took a deep breath, his wide shoulders rising and falling with the action. His face turned hard, the look Bucky used to call his ‘I’m trying not to hit you right now’ face. “So, you gonna tell me or what?”

Bucky took a deep breath, he knew what he had to say, and he’d been rehearsing the words all day long. He’d played through countless scenarios, imagined every single thing that Steve could hit him with. Saw himself break down in different ways, bowing down to Steve’s will, his pleas to change his mind. He’d run through every single situation, except that it was nothing like telling Steve face-to-face. It was so much harder to say the words to him than to say them to himself in his head. He took a deep breath and said, “I'm going back into cryo.”

It took Steve just five seconds before reacting, his hands fisting, his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching. He took a step towards Bucky. “No,” he said. “No.”

Bucky could see the fire burning behind Steve blue eyes, could see the internal struggle, could see the tough guy act coming out and taking over to protect little Stevie - the Stevie he grew up with who would cry whenever he saw a dead animal on the streets or weep over a fictional character. The little Steve who socked men in the jaw for cursing near a lady, the boy who turned into a man with more heart than common sense.

God, did he wish they were back home in the 1930’s were life was harder and everything was easier for them. But now they’d said three little words, the three words that Bucky had been so scared of saying seventy years ago. Three words that held so much power, so much of everything. Now they had no way out of how they felt, out of admitting that they had been stupid fools in love. Except Steve had Sharon, other friends, a family who protected the world, and he had no right to look so damn hurt when Bucky told him his choice.

No right, absolutely none. Because this wasn’t his body, he didn’t feel broken the way Bucky did. He didn’t feel the disconnection between his body and his mind. He didn’t get to hear the whisperings of the Asset, the Soldier, and the long buried Sergeant Barnes, in his head. He didn’t hear the screams; the painful gasps of air, the memories of being strapped down to a metal chair and having his body betray him. He doesn’t understand what it felt like to take a backseat in his own mind, to kill without mercy, to pound against mental barriers and be pushed back by cold Winter.

He doesn’t understand what Bucky felt. No one did. And that was dangerous. Bucky felt like a weapon no matter what Steve and the others might say. Bucky  _ was a fucking goddamn weapon  _ whether he wanted to be or not.

“Stevie, you promised -”

“I’m not freaking out,” Steve interrupted.

“I’m doing this to protect you, Steve.”

“Fuck that,” Steve hissed, finally letting his façade drop. “I don’t need you protectin’ me, Buck.”

“I don't … If there's a possibility that I could - I could hurt you if I - I can't hurt you, Steve. I've hurt you too much already.”

“No, you can't do this. I won't -”

“- you won't what? Huh? You won't let me?”

A pause.

“Don't leave me, again. I don't think I'll be able to take it if you leave me again…”

“Stevie, don’t say that. Just - you’ve lived without me -”

“No. No, I’ve survived without you because I  _ had  _ to. I thought you’d died on that train, I thought I’d lost you seventy-years ago. But I didn’t. I - I still have you.”

“Steve…” Bucky shook his head and stood. He walked to Steve, intending to reach for him, calm him down somehow but Steve took a step back. Bucky sighed. “How many times do we have to go over this? How many times do I have to say it before you get it, Steve?”

“You can say it every minute of everyday as long as you stay alive.”

“I am alive, Steve. Cryo freeze doesn’t mean I’m dead.”

“I read the files, Buck. I know it hurts coming out… I didn’t feel it, at least I don’t remember but you’ll feel it. You’ll remember.”

“T’Challa’s doctors have –“

“T’Challa knows? He knew and he didn’t – “

“I told him not to tell you.”

“So now you’re keeping secrets from me too?”

“Steve. Stop that.” Bucky reached for Steve again, this time Steve let him and he pulled him into a tight hug. Steve wrapped his arms around his waist, pulled him close, unbearably close and shook his head against Bucky’s neck. “This is my choice. I’ve made up my mind. I just didn’t want you to come looking for me and find me … in there.”

They stood there, in each other’s embrace, for a long time. Bucky felt when Steve gave up, felt his shoulders square and his body become tense a second before he pulled away and met his eyes. “When?” he asked with a monotone voice. He took a step back and motioned with his hand to Bucky’s clothes. “I’m guessing soon.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Bucky told him, taking a step forward and reaching for Steve’s hand. “I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Steve’s composure cracked for a second, his eyes fluttering as he tried to regain it. His jaw tensed, his eyebrows pulling together. He pulled away and whispered, “I can’t…”

Bucky had always been the one to run away, from his feelings and from life. But right now, this second, it was Steve who walked away and, not for the first time, Bucky felt like his whole world was falling to pieces.

“I can’t,” Steve said one more time as he walked away from Bucky. “I’m sorry.”

  
  
  



	5. If You're Sure Of This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only Bucky mattered now. Not the Avengers, not being Captain America, only Bucky.

Steve felt empty. He felt like a shell, a pod person, doing the motions of living but not _actually_ living. Just moving, doing, _surviving_. His heart beat at the rate of a deadman. He mentally counted down the days till it stopped beating and he just… ceased.

Until the day at the bridge.

He could still remember the way his heart sped up. From a quiet, ever present motion in his chest to a rapid, unending feeling spread from his heart to his entire body until he was woken up. It was like in the movies when Dorothy woke up in Oz in full color, leaving her dreary black and white life behind for something better. That's how it felt. Like a cold shower after weeks, months, _years_ of heat. Like his body was shocked into gear, hurdled into a rude awakening.

He remembered the wind being knocked out of him. His lungs suddenly becoming nonexistent. His chest heaved, trying to find breathable air to take in and finding none. He felt his mouth open, letting out precious oxygen as he whispered, “Bucky?”

He remembered feeling sick to his stomach next. Like a punch to the gut if the punch was delivered by Thor’s hammer. He swallowed down bile, memories rising along with them. A voice he'd thought he'd long forgotten. A voice he thought he would never hear again. Until now. Until he heard: “who the hell is Bucky?”

And then days… Days of waiting and then fighting on the helicarrier. He remembered feeling hope, wanting - no, _needing_ \- to prove to himself that the long hair, steel blue eyed assassin with the familiar jawline and even more familiar voice was actually Bucky. He thought himself to be hallucinating, until Fury confirmed it. Until everything went to hell.

Until he fell and was rescued.

Until two years passed and he stood in a tiny apartment in Bucharest flipping through notebooks with curling handwriting that made his heart clench. He saw himself in the notebooks, pictures from the museum he'd visited so many times. He wondered if they'd passed each other in the halls. He wondered if steel eyes stared at the memorial of Bucky, the same one that Steve blue eyes did - full of regret and longing.

And then suddenly they were alone, together on the run. Steve felt lost. What had happened between Bucharest and the quinjet to Siberia? Did it matter as long as he had Bucky, _his_ Bucky, at his side?

“You don't have to do this, you know?”

“It wasn't you…”

“But I did it anyway.”

He remembered hitting, hearing his fist hit red and gold metal over and over and over again until his lungs gave out and all he could do was pull away. Bucky was on the floor, bloodied and breathing hard. His pupils were wide, his mind somewhere else. Steve felt panic rise in his chest, spreading through his empty shell and waking up the rest of him. _Protect Bucky_ , he thought, _must protect Bucky like he used to protect me._ He scrambled to get up.

Only Bucky mattered now. Not the Avengers, not being Captain America, only Bucky.

T'Challa was helpful, kind and a million other things that Steve couldn't name just now because his heart, his entire being was trained on Bucky, bleeding and still not fully present as the Wakandan King cleaned him up. He asked no questions. He let them have space, kept his distance.

Steve couldn’t even look at Bucky at the moment, not when he was covered up in bruises and blood that Steve had put there.

And then … and then Steve had fucked up and now Bucky was going back into cryo freeze and Steve could do nothing about it. Bucky’s words from the night before suddenly made heck of a lot more sense. _You are so much more without me, Stevie. Without me you’re Captain America, you’re a hero._

But he wasn’t.

The moment Bucky went off to war, what had Steve done? Gotten himself experimented on.

The moment Bucky’s unit had gotten captured, what had Steve done? Disobeyed orders and gone into enemy territory with no backup and no plan other than _find Bucky_.

The moment Bucky had … had... what had Steve done? Crashed a plane into the ocean.

The moment he’d woken up, only a few weeks after looking Bucky to him, seventy to the outside world, what had Steve done? Joined the Avengers and nearly destroyed several cities.

The moment he’d seen Bucky on the street, his eyes so alive contrary to how his body acted, what had Steve done? Spent two years looking for him.

The moment he’d found him, hiding away in a tiny apartment, safe and sound, what had he done? Taken on hundreds of governments including the one he had vowed to defend with his life.

Because if anyone was the hero, it was James Buchanan Barnes. If Steve had never survived Erskine’s experiment, if he’d never tried to enlist in every enlistment office he could think off, if he’d gotten caught lying on the form - then Steve would be nothing but another kid who didn’t make it out of Brooklyn. But Bucky… he was meant to be more.

Steve had just walked into the right place at the right time.

Nothing more.

Bucky was the brave one, the one who went off to war to fight for his country. Steve… Steve should’ve stayed at home and collected scrap metal to help with the war effort.

Steve owed up to his life, the circumstance that surrounded it, and accepted the fact that no matter how much he wanted to change it, he was stuck. He felt the shellshock, the anxiety, the depression that he never dealt with, the grief of having lost his entire world within a matter of hours and he knew what it meant. He knew he was fucked up. And he didn’t know how fix it. His time to be alive had passed a long time ago.

But having Bucky here, next to him, being able to touch him and look into his eyes, it was like he was getting another chance at being that kid from Brooklyn who was so desperately in love with his best friend that he mounted a one man rescue mission in order to get him back.

This was their second chance and he didn’t want to waste it.

Bucky didn’t want that, though. He couldn’t see himself as more than a bad guy. Someone’s weapon. He wasn’t. God, he was so much more to Steve. And Steve was going to show him that.

And if it took Bucky going into that damned machine and being frozen while Steve found the people who hurt him, then that’s what Steve was going to do. He would burn the world to the ground if it meant it could save Bucky.

* * *

He didn’t sleep, instead he took over T’Challa’s private gym and tested the limits of the King’s equipment. It fared heck of a lot better than the gym he used to go to.

Once morning hit, he showered and changed and went to talk to the scientists and doctors that were going to put Bucky to sleep. They seemed wary of him, eyeing him with both pity and annoyance. He asked them questions, looked over the machine, poked at wires and was a general nuisance right up until Bucky walked in.

He was dressed in all white, like yesterday, looking like an angel to Steve. His hair was smoothed down, parted down the center. His shoulder, where is metal arm would be, was wrapped up, only a few scars visible under the white shirt he wore. Steve stuck his hands in his front pockets and took a steady breath. Already his eyes stung, tears at the ready. But he would be strong for Bucky.

He would find every HYDRA agent in the world and make them pay for had been done to Bucky. He would protect him, find a way to make him feel safe within his own mind again, while he slept safe and sound.

Steve smiled sadly at his best friend and met him in the center of the room. Bucky smiled back, unsure after what had happened last time. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Buck, I overreacted.”

Bucky’s smile grew if only for a second before he bit his lower lip. His eyes held unshed tears, mirroring the emotions Steve felt stir in him. “If there was another way to keep you safe, Stevie…”

“I know,” Steve said, reaching up to cup Bucky’s face. He ran his thumb over Bucky’s cheek, catching a single tear that had managed to fall. “I’ll find a way to - a way to stop them from ever taking control of you again. I promise.”

Bucky looked away and whispered, “I’m scared, Steve.”

“Me too, pal,” Steve admitted. “I’m fucking terrified. But the doctors, they said I could come and visit you whenever. And I’ma ask T’Challa and see if they can teach me how to operate the thing, just in case. Okay?” Steve leaned down a bit until Bucky met his eyes. “I’ll read to ya, and tell you stories and I’ll be right here when you come out, I promise.”

“Okay.” He chuckled, softly. “I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around, ya know? I’m the one going under, not you.” He reached up with his flesh hand and covered one of Steve’s hand, pulling it to lips and placing a small kiss on the inside of Steve’s palm. “No matter what happens, Stevie, I’m with you till the end of the line.”

Steve wanted to pull him in, crash his lips against Bucky’s full ones and try one last time to convince him not to go through with this. But he didn’t. Instead he pointed behind him and asked softly, “if you’re sure about this, sleeping beauty.”

* * *

**_Now_ **

It’s been three months, two weeks, four days and just over twenty-one hours since Bucky went into cryo freeze.

Steve is three miles away when a loud blast behind him shifts the air around him. He pulls the coat around his shoulders closer, walking the final feet to the quinjet softly humming and promising warmth. When his feet hit the metal floor, he looks up to meet Sam’s worrying eyes.

“Let me guess,” he says, “that ain’t your blood on your face.”

Steve reaches out and runs his hands through his face and then looks at his fingers. The only injury he sustained was a cracked rib and that was already healing thanks to his serum. He shakes his head and agrees, “nope.”

Sam just shakes his head and walks away. Steve has long ago stop feeling bad about the looks Sam gets whenever they came back from a mission like this. The “Secret” Avengers’ only purpose was to bring down HYDRA and its remaining cells.

So far, they’d gotten five and have turned in several key players to the “Actual” Avengers for interrogation. They also met Agent Coulson and his S.H.I.E.L.D agents and stuck a deal to exchange intelligence for backup.

Most of the time after another semi-abandoned HYDRA base has been blown to bits, Steve would hang out in the back of the jet and plan for their next attack, contacting Tony and Coulson to let them know what he’d found.

But today, once the hanger doors close, Steve heads straight to the cockpit with a wide smile on his face.

Sam and Clint look at each other when they hear Steve approach and share a worried look.

“Wassup, Cap?” Clint asks slowly.

“You okay, Steve?” Sam asks.

“Didya find something? Your smile is kinda making me uncomfortable,”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” Steve says as he pulls the jacket off. He waits one second before pulling out a book from the inner pocket of the jacket. He waves the book in front of the two Avengers and says, “I guess I'm just excited to go home.”


End file.
